In this article, you will find my eulogy honouring my late grandfather, John Alfred Singarayer, a retired Telecommunications worker who was originally based in Colombo, Sri Lanka.
On May 26th, 2017 my world was turned upside down as I received the heartbreaking news that my grandfather had passed away just two weeks fresh of his 89th birthday. Thus begun a graduation season that was anything but ordinary or particularly enjoyable (see here for more context). I had been with my grandfather shortly after Easter Sunday to visit my family in England. In fact, I was there to visit my grandparents in particular. It was a rather enjoyable time as a whole, however, my face quickly dropped as I noticed my grandfather continuously staring at me with overly confused eyes. I felt alienated because his very distinct voice didn't call out to me in his gentle yet blunt tone that is so familiar to his person. I vividly recall the night that he fell ill and began his journey into the hospital where he passed on without a flicker of a light.
My uncle looked at me as I sat uncomfortably in my grandparents' homely living room that I have come to know quite intimately as the years have flown by. He smiled at me knowingly and with many hints of sadness in his face and he told me that my grandfather didn't remember my name. I didn't realize it until I began this particular journey, but my grandpa had been diagnosed with early dementia since I had last saw him in August of 2016. It was hard to see this man that I felt encompassed the meaning of the words down to earth and joy suffering so much. My grandfather went to the hospital where he was admitted by the GPs and medics on account of having a urinary infection that ended up going away quite quickly. Eventually, other complications arose. I had to leave a few days after arriving in order to return to the States to study for my last ever AP exams, but my mother ended up returning to her former home of Great Britain to be by grandfather's side. Eventually, my older brother accompanied her and they both were with my grandfather when he passed away at the end of a lengthy hospital stay.
And here's where the journey starts and ends. I pack my bag with two very different dresses and some casual clothing for my sparse down time between the two days I was in the United Kingdom. One dress is splayed with white, black, and polka dots and the other is black with some hints of glitter, subdued within the foreground. I locate my vanity bag that is clearly worn out and I place my essential toiletries inside. I do not do this with much enthusiasm because I am hurting inside and I physically cannot display this externally. Losing someone you have known your whole life is extremely difficult especially when the person is an integral part of your upbringing and is someone you seldom saw. But just as the saying goes, distance truly makes the heart grow fonder. There is nothing like the love that I hold in my heart for my grandfather. There will never be anything so simple and wonderful. I know this in my heart and in my gut and most of the time, you can't exactly argue with such a sensation. From time to time, I still remember the day I saw my grandfather laying in the funeral home, stiff as a board. I had never seen him so solemn and silent and frankly it was unsettling. It was hot as hell inside the room as we painstakingly said our goodbyes to this man who was very important to all of us. My two cousins may have been so shocked that they fainted inside the room as we all gasped and tears formed in our eyes. Really it was the sheer amount of heat collecting in the room, but I'd like to think that God, however his mysterious ways may work, was sending out a signal to all of us. I can close my eyes and recall when my family was taking photos with my grandpa, except this time he wasn't responsive or aware of anything that was happening. I was so uncomfortable that some of us were taking photos without his consent, but then again, my grandfather was always down for a photoshoot. He was a handsome and photogenic guy in all honesty.
That night, we all ate and after convening, we took our leave. We slept off the tiredness and we came back together the next morning, exhausted in every sense of the word. We were, or at least I was, dreading what was to come. Bidding adieu in any way is extremely difficult. In this case, this farewell did not entail an "it's see you later" as much as it did, "I hope you aren't suffering anymore." We had the funeral mass, even though my grandfather wasn't laid to rest until a week later. My cousin and I sang and played through the whole mass. I sang Schubert's Ave Maria with all difficulty. I was struggling not to give into the action of choking in my throat and I somewhat succeeded. My eyes coagulated with salty water as I looked upon the crowd receiving communion. I was numb beyond explanation and at some moments, I felt as though I couldn't breathe. When my cousins spoke between the church's echoes, my breath caught itself. They were as broken as I was on the inside but they were able to openly exhibit their vulnerability. When my cousin returned to the choir loft, her face was sopping wet with tears and if I could have, I would have wiped them all away. It was a hell of a day and what made it a bit less bearable was the fact that I was leaving, not even 5 hours later.
When we arrived at the location of the luncheon, I was starving oddly enough. The last time I experienced a loss in the family, I couldn't exactly enjoy food the way I would if I were not grieving. I thought of my grandfather as I ate the food from our island nation of Sri Lanka and the corner of lips couldn't help but firm up into a smile. He may have been gone but in many minutes from that moment, I was going to use my breath to bring a hastily written summation of his life into the room for those who came to support us Alfreds (my grandfather's middle name and the family surname). As I finished my meal, I took deep breaths in and out, and to a spectator, it may have looked like hyperventilation. I said goodbye to my grandpa only a few hours before and really had enough time to honor him and breathe half a breath before I returned to my home country for my graduation festivities. I looked across at my paternal cousin as she tried to comfort me by means of talking about her daughter, my niece, to help me find my center as well as some consolation. My legs found themselves lifted up by the balls of my feet and soon enough, I was upright, not very ready to give my grandfather another tribute, but in the medium of spoken word.
I took a deep breath on the side of the microphone and began to speak, saying with all vulnerability, while still keeping my composure:
"My grandfather is and will always be one of the most compassionate and genuine people I have ever known. Me having the esteemed honor of being one out of two of his American grandchildren, we seldom spent time in each other's company however, no matter how we communicated, I always came out of the exchange immersed in simple and pure joy. Grandpa John, as I sometimes called him, had the inexplicable ability to make me smile and or laugh at any of his witty comments. Grandpa has a radiant smile that along with his brilliant spirit, will never truly burn out. It has been the honor of my life to be John's grandchild and to share in his wonderful, warm company whenever I was able to. The holidays we have taken together and the small adventures we have shared will forever be in my mind and heart, just like he will be. My grandpa and I share special bond that comes through a little song I made up and we used to sing together. 'Welcome to my house' was our mantra and perhaps it came from the Sri Lankan culture of hospitality or simply from how much we enjoyed spending time together. I hope he knows that he is welcome in the home of my heart always, wherever he may be, looking down upon me."
So its been 3 months already and I guess a lot has happened, Grandpa. Since you passed, two of your grandchildren graduated from secondary school and university, respectively. Some got marks on A levels and GCSEs which were satisfactory overall, to say the least. You and Grandma celebrated yet another anniversary, the first without you. Some of your grandchildren are on new paths with new jobs and studies to be completed. One of your oldest but middle grandchildren, began university today, August 28th, 2017. We all are getting by, your children and grandchildren, but never do we falter from thinking of you. We miss you dearly and I hope we're all making you proud, even when we get horrible marks or fantastic ones. So here's to keeping the memory of you alive, John. We love you and wish you well, as you look down upon us.
